I’m sad today, having read the news of a young woman killed while bicycling in Salem. It’s just a no that comes out of my mouth as I think of that senseless loss, that life cut short, that empty space in the hearts of so many. And I hear today of the death of the spouse of a pastor I know, newly retired. Its not fair. They worked hard, and planned for days when they might simply be together, and now it is not to be. And I grieve today as I do so often for the enmity I see between people – between opinions. It sucks the life out of me.
And yet, I’m home today, communing with 60+ pastors of my denomination as we meet in convocation online. I am grateful for them. I am fed by them, as we put one foot in front of the other, imagining how to worship in the seasons upcoming. Advent is at the doorstep. And I yearn to be busy with scheduling times to share special hymns and special decorations. And yet. There is no release in sight from the spectre of the pandemic.
And yet, this weekend, I watched congregation members give and pray, and speak passionately about helping wildfire refugees who have come our way. They impress me so much.
I often find myself like the disciples, “How can we sing, sing the Lord’s song, in a foreign land?” (Okay, I’m a Godspell groupie, you’re not suprised, right?).
And so I grieve. In light. In love. and God will find a way to lift us all up. With joy. And Advent will come whether we can sing together or not.
Just breathe, my friends. God is big enough for your grief and mine. God is comforting enough for a pandemic. Comforting enough for loss that ought never have been. God is enough.
Amen.
This picture is from Jared Lyman from the Mt Hood Territory website.